Working For It, A Story From A Recovering Spiritual Misfit

I am delighted to welcome friend and fellow writer Kris Camealy to the blog today as part of my “I am a Spiritual Misfit, I am His Beloved Misfit” series. As I’ve gotten to know her better and better over these last few months, I’ve come to realize that Kris and I have far more in common than our Catholic background. I see so much of myself in the honest words she writes here today. And if you haven’t yet read her beautiful book, Holey, Wholly, Holy: A Lenten Journey of Refinement, get yourself a copy, pronto. You will be greatly blessed by her writing and her heart.

Some of my most vivid memories are of myself, kneeling in church, staring up at a crucifix. Jesus, held there, with His mouth downturned, and His lifeless eyes in a fixed in a steady gaze. I’d stare with intent at his anguished expression, almost willing myself to feel what He must have felt. I’ve lived life keenly aware of my deserving of punishment. Guilt can be a handy thing, but I think it’s safe to say, looking back now, I lived too long under the weight of not simply guilt for my inborn sinful nature, but shame as well.

The kneelers were padded but after a few brief minutes, my knees ached and I’d catch myself slouching just enough so that my rear end could rest against the pew. Resting there for a minute, the shame was quick to convict me. Needed to ‘rest’ during this sacred prayer time was a sign of weakness–I was sure of it.

Looking down at my thighs, I’d shift my weight from kneecap to kneecap, eager for the liturgy to end. Then inevitably, the confession would begin, followed by the Our Father.

I told myself that kneeling was a small sacrifice to make, considering Jesus’s sacrifice. I’d guilt-trip myself through the prayers on my knees, flogging myself with shameful barbed words about how weak I was to complain about 5 minutes on my knees on a padded kneeler.

I made a habit of comparing my various discomforts during church to Christ’s suffering on the cross. I told myself, if He could endure what He did, surely I could suck it up and handle both the boring service and the painful prayer portion of the service.

In essence, I told myself I was taking one for the team–team Jesus.

I wish I could say that this method of comparing my own “suffering” to that of Christ’s ended after leaving the Catholic church. I only know it now, as an adult, but the truth is, I shamed myself over various perceived weakness for most of my entire life. Actually, it would be a great many more years before I stopped telling myself to “endure” the discomfort of kneeling during church for Christ’s sake.

I’d always felt a sort of kinship with flagellant monks. Kneeling until my knees ached felt like penance for my mounting sins. The longer I could endure it, the more likely Christ would deem me worthy of forgiveness. I wasn’t good about praying the rosary, so I hoped I could make up for my failed efforts at prayer by kneeling long without rest.

I hadn’t yet met grace. I didn’t understand that Christ loved me, rosary prayers or not, and that whether I could stand or kneel during prayer, had no impact on whether or not He heard me. Salvation was in my own hands. Surely I needed to endure something to gain His acceptance. Didn’t I needed to do something to earn a spot in heaven? Last I’d heard, space was filling up–

No.

I had never read in Jeremiah, where God says,

Thus says the Lord:
“Cursed is the man who trusts in man
and makes flesh his strength,
whose heart turns away from the Lord.” (17:5)

Jeremiah was a bullfrog. I knew a boy in my class called Jeremiah. But I did not know then, about the weeping prophet.

I grew up believing that salvation would come by way of my efforts, and through my own willingness to suffer. I believed that God’s mercy had limits, and that God helps those who help themselves. (That last one there–it’s not buried in Proverbs like I thought it must be. Nor will you find it in the book of “Hezekiah.” It’s NOT scriptural, at all).

I spent my whole young life trying to help myself because If I didn’t, who would? Not Jesus. How could He when He was fastened to a brass cross week after week? I worked fiercely to become good enough, strong enough, decent enough–just enough. You can imagine I always fell short.

Always.

I didn’t know grace, not how to give it, nor receive it. I all but shut my heart to the notion that God helps those who CAN’T help themselves, which, by the way, includes me.

It’s been a long journey from my 6 year-old self in my white first communion dress, to today. It took 20 years for me to finally see Jesus not as bound to a cross but as the risen Savior.

My current church doesn’t say prayers while kneeling. We don’t even have kneelers attached to the pews. I still gaze up at the cross when I pray but Jesus isn’t on it. He lives. He’s out and about in the world, helping us, because, Lord knows, we can’t help ourselves.

******

When Michelle asked me to guest post for her, relating my own Spiritual Misfit story, the only struggle I had was deciding which one to tell you. I think, if we’re honest, we are all spiritual misfits in some way or another. Michelle’s book is for everyone who tries to love and live Jesus and feels like they are always missing the mark by just a bit. You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. You’ll see yourself in her story–but better than all of that, you’ll see Jesus in her words.

As a sequin-wearing, homeschooling mom of four, Kris is passionate about Jesus, people and words. When she’s not writing, she enjoys taking gratuitous pictures of her culinary creations on Instagram. Once upon a time, she ran 10 miles for Compassion International. She is the author of Holey, Wholly, Holy: A Lenten Journey of Refinement, and blogs at kriscamealy.com.

I love that word In Jeremiah too, Diane. It’s So true, and so rich! I NEEDED that truth years before I found it, but God’s timing is perfect and He has used my messy past for His glory–He is beyond generous.

Kris…you put words to my childhood faith experience. Exactly….kneelers and butt on pew and gulit and shame and all. Only..true confession…in the second grade I peed all over the kneeler, my socks, and the floor below as I feared being found so irrereverant as to ask Sister if I could dare to leave mass for the restroom. I had to sit in the principal’s office on a towel waiting for my mom to bring a change of clothes as all the children paraded by the window as they returned to class. I just couldn’t ever be holy enough to make it to heaven I thought. It was over thirty years later that I met the God of grace whose gift of salvation didn’t expect me to work my way to heaven. I could have gone to the restroom after all. What a relief to not only my body but my soul.

Oh Kelly. I wept when I read your comment. I can’t imagine. Oh friend. I just want to reach through the screen and pull you in tight. So thankful for GRACE that brings us through–and for God’s truth that manifests more powerfully than anything ever. Praying for you this morning–right now!

I don’t know if it’s ‘proper’ to say what I want to say…but I’m going to say it anyway. I recently read the book, ‘Angela’s Ashes’, thinking it was a story about a little Jewish girl. Instead, I read the true story of a young boy, Frank McCourt, born of poverty-stricken Irish immigrants in the States who returned to Ireland. He describes vividly his experience within the Catholic churches of his town. I confess here, that I was filled with anger more than once as I read his story. The distorted and dare I say, warped teachings within those churches. That poor boy lived under constant guilt, bargaining with God, praying to Francis of Assisi, continually feeling “doomed” to hell, or at best, Purgatory, which we know does not exist.
I have several dear, sincere Catholic friends. But to ‘share Christ’ with them is to meet a brick wall. They are born Catholic, and by golly, they will die Catholic. Don’t talk to them about the true Word of God or the saving power of Christ, and don’t dare tell them they can KNOW they’re going to heaven. They live day-to-day with the certainty of one uncertainty–“Will God allow me into heaven when I die?” I have never seen such mournful grief as theirs when they recently lost 2 loved ones in their family. They have no assurance, no true hope.
To hear of your young heart-struggles within the church, Kris, only proves what I feel when I think of their doctrines and practices. Thank you for telling your story today.

Jillie, Praying with you for all to know Jesus intimately, as Savior, he is so much more than we let Him be in our minds.You know, I felt compelled to share with you that my Granny was a devout practicing Catholic her whole life–she loved Jesus more than anyone I knew during my childhood. His name was always on her lips in song, and I am so grateful for her faith and her example.

I appreciate your comment here, Jillie, and I’m glad that you speak from the heart. I also feel compelled to add, speaking from experience, that my childhood perceptions of Catholicism do not match my adult understanding of grace and faith. As I’ve grown in my faith and walked this spiritual path, I’ve come to know, understand and appreciate the Catholic Church in ways that I couldn’t as a child and a young adult. Yes, I have been critical of the Catholic Church, but that criticism came from a place of fear, misunderstanding and in sometimes, pure ignorance. We all, I hope, eventually find our right place in faith – the place we feel comfortable, loved and forgiven. For my entire extended family, that place is still within Catholicism, and I am glad for that. For me, that place is within Lutheranism. I’ve come to understand that neither denomination (no denomination, in fact) is perfect. But I’ve also come to understand that God’s miraculous love shines passes through every man-made doctrine and all their inherent flaws.

Thank you for sharing your story, Kris. I can relate to living under guilt and shame to try to beat myself down to suffer for God. I read your book last night and finished it this morning. I couldn’t put it down! Thank you for putting into words the journey I’m on. Your book is so full of hope even in the midst of suffering and darkness! Thank you, Kris!

This is good Kris. I, too, have Catholic friends, I love them very much of course! But I am always saddened that they keep Jesus on the cross and that they are so bound to rules and rituals that were done away with when the veil was torn! No longer do we have to go before a priest to confess and ask for forgiveness for our sins and then for him to go to God for us…Jesus paid the price and we are no longer under the Law but Grace! The desire of my heart is to show others His unconditional love that He has so mercifully shown me and to live Christ among unbelievers so they could come to experience a RELATIONSHIP with Him! Christ in us, the hope of Glory!

These are my roots as well… I went to mass when the priest had his back to you and the mass was in Latin… It was a long hard journey to grace for me as well… but oh how amazing that grace is and to land and abide in His ever loving arms has been a pure gift of grace to me. Oh the stories I could tell…when I was being confirmed… the bishop was asking questions to some of us with a mic in font of the whole …big …church…He asked me about the pope… did I think he was infallible? …I said no… there were giggles in the congregation …people thought I misunderstood the question… he asked again and I said no… giggles turned to gasps… and I was later made to knee down and kiss the bishop’s ring… a kind of penitence … my parents should have known then 🙂 I was later kicked out of the house for leaving the church… but God’s grace has restored that relationship… I now love so much of my Catholic roots… and I can appreciate them now through the lens of grace.

Ro- what a story you have. Wow. I too have grown to love my Catholic roots. I love the liturgy and the ceremony of it. I love the formality and reverence of high church. God is shaping my faith in new ways these days and I can see value in every piece of my journey–even the parts I didn’t understand for a long time. All through the lens of grace now– Amen!

Oh Kris, my heart aches for your experience. I was raised Catholic and still am. Joyfully, gracefully, and wonderfully loved, saved, and rejoicing in Jesus Christ, my risen Savior, just as I know is the case for all my sisters in the same Lord. Its sad when we let denominations divide us and we place blame and point fingers at institutions, rather than seeing ourselves as children of the King, being raised by imperfect humans (as we all are!) who are all doing the best they can do in this imperfect world, yet still seeking and following the perfection of Christ. I pray we work to see beyond our human limitations and pray more for unity in Christ the Lord.

After I read this article, I got to have knowledge and add my insight, I happened to look for an article like this, it is very helpful for me and the crowd, the writing is good to read and easy to understand.

After I read this article, I got to have knowledge and add my insight, I happened to look for an article like this, it is very helpful for me and the crowd, the writing is good to read and easy to understand.Kunjungi juga gan Artikel Tentang kesehatan kami tunggu.

After I read this article, I got to have knowledge and add my insight, I happened to look for an article like this, it is very helpful for me and the crowd, the writing is good to read and easy to understand.Kunjungi juga gan Artikel Tentang kesehatan kami tunggu.

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Comment

Name *

Email *

Website

Notify me of follow-up comments by email.

Primary Sidebar

Living out faith in the everyday is no joke. If you’re anything like me, some days you feel full of confidence and hope, eager to proclaim God’s goodness and love to the world. Other days…not so much.

Let me say straight up: I wrestle with my faith. Most days I feel a little bit like Jacob, wrangling his blessing out of God. And most days I’m okay with that. I believe God made me a questioner and a wrestler for a reason, and I believe one of those reasons is so that I can connect more authentically with others.